Flame
by Koalagriton
Summary: TMNT 2012. Prompt: "When you're a bender with the least fitting element for your personality." The Hamatos are a clan in the Fire Nation known for their great skill in firebending but Michelangelo can't seem to be any good at it.
Michelangelo wept bitterly in the corner of the bedroom, his whole body shaking as he gulped down the sounds he was trying not to make. He hadn't meant to do anything like this. It was an accident, a terrible mistake and now they would probably take him away from his home, his family, his brothers and everything he cared about.

Every member of his family was known throughout the Fire Nation for their martial arts prowess and their incredible firebending. It was rare that someone of the Hamato bloodline not have at least some level of competence with this skill. Just having Hamato as your surname practically ensured that you would have a place among the ranks in the Fire Nation Army and be promoted quickly.

All of his brothers were on their way to mastering firebending each in their own way. Leonardo was quick to pick up the different techniques, executed flawlessly, often acknowledged for his discipline and form and the rumour was that he'd started to practice lightning bending techniques already (which was true but it was a well kept secret amongst the brothers).

Raphael wasn't as quick to learn but the techniques he did use had incredible strength, raw bursts of flame that fed off his emotions and fuelled an overwhelming power that awed even his teachers. Whenever he was called out to spar there was a silence and quiet shifting amongst the other students, all eyes turned away in fear of being called up to face the smirking turtle.

Donatello was the least skilled of the three, would get by well enough, even better than most students but his imaginative thinking put him a step above the rest. What were chemical reactions if not applications of heat in one direction or the other? There were just so many things you could apply firebending to other than to produce flames (you would be amazed at what he could do with a little potassium chlorate and a handful of gummy bears).

On the other hand, Michelangelo had barely shown any prowess at all, only a few tricks some might not even call bending. It was just an element that didn't go with him, with his spirit or personality. He didn't have the discipline, the emotion and the right state of mind for it. The only reason he was even in training in the academy with the others at all was because of the family name. His teachers were convinced that he just needed to learn focus and tap into the power that all of his brother's shared as Hamato children.

Even with the intense training and his brothers trying to help him in their free time, he hadn't made any progress. Tomorrow they'd have to pass a gruelling exam to test their powers and be allowed to either continue and finally join the army or be taken out of the training program altogether. This was why he'd secluded himself in his room during their free lunch hour, he needed every spare minute he possessed to try make a breakthrough, some sort of advance, anything. He was trying to focus his mind the way Leonardo had taught him, let out all his emotions at once the way Raphael had been trying to explain and concentrate on something small first how Donatello had suggested.

The result had been disastrous.

He needed to fix this somehow. They were going to take him away and he couldn't let them. He lifted his gaze from his shaking hands, his clenched jaw turning his sobs into a pained keening that sounded like it couldn't possibly be coming from him and looked around the room. _How could this have happened?_

The door burst open and Raphael stomped into the room.

"There you are! You didn't even show up for lunch, we've been looking all over for y-" Raphael stopped short and stared, first at his brother shaking in the corner of the room and then his eyes roamed along the walls, the floor, the ceiling, his mouth gaping open as he took in the sight, his breath steaming in the air in front of him as it came out in quick puffs.

"You can't tell them!" Mikey suddenly exclaimed, darting forward and holding onto his brother who had taken a hesitant step back. "Please! Raph! It was an accident! Don't tell anyone, they'll take me away! I don't... I can't do it! Please..."

He lowered his head as his trembling voice trailed off, lifting a fist to wipe the tears off his face and swallow the noises that threatened to bubble up from his raw throat again. Warm dark green arms enveloped him, pulled him closer and after a stunned moment Mikey clung to his older brother and burrowed into the embrace.

"Okay." Raph said softly after a moment, turning his head to make sure the door was firmly closed behind him. "It's okay, Mikey, I won't let anyone take you away. I'll fix this."

He waited for Mikey to nod against his neck before pulling away gently and examining the mess that was their shared room. The dark brick was covered in long, deadly spikes shooting out in all directions from the spot where Mikey had been curled up a moment ago. Raphael walked over to the nearest wall rubbing the fingers and thumb of one hand together and then bringing it closer to one of the spikes that protruded there. It melted instantly, dripping along the wall and puddling onto the floor leaving no doubt what those spikes were made of.

Ice.

Michelangelo cried quietly as his brother quickly got to work getting rid of all evidence of what had transpired in the room. His shoulders sagged in relief, he knew Raph would keep his promise and keep him safe and secret no matter what but he wasn't sure in what kind of trouble he was getting them into.


End file.
